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The Boys Who Grew From Northern Lands

February 5th, 2013 · 9 Comments · Poetry, Weird Things About Me

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Dad-Phyllis

 

The Boys Who Grew From Northern Lands

for my dad — Vern Victor Hassett

From playing hockey with homegrown pucks,
To riding in the back of pick-up trucks,
Under cloudless, beating prairie skies,
Chasing the girls with the prettiest eyes,
Riding the roads from farm to boomtown,
Working the land from Rose to Sundown.

From schoolhouses built for all one grade,
To backyard hockey rinks — family made,
Through cold wars and winters, holding true,
Moving from the land and life you knew,
Until during the summer of sixty-one,
Fate and mom bore you a son.

Innocence playing out in the snow,
Helping me build, helping me grow,
Crossing the mountains by railroad track,
Driving to practice with skates in back,
Shovelling walks from street to lane,
Then two days later it would snow again.

From Dominion City where our food is grown,
To foreign New York to pursue the unknown,
I’ve carried our branch, and tended it well,
In the fertile garden of the Liberty Bell.

A lot has gone down,
Since I let my hometown,
And at many a time, whatever I do,
I see you in me, and see how I grew.
It’s in my face and down in my hands,
The boys who grew from Northern Lands.

There’s so many ways you’ve made me glad,
I just have to stop and thank you Dad,
For bright eyes, hope, and the big city chance,
For the red race car, and the keys to the dance.
So I’m just slowing down to nod a thanks to you,
For starting this project, then seeing it through.

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For more on my Dad, Vern Victor Hassett — see this tribute.

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Some other poems . . .

A Song of Enid I Sing

The Carolyn Cassady Birthday Poem

Love Is

Be The Invincible Spirit You Are

Smokin’ Charlie’s Saxophone

The Royal Woods of Cassady County

A Shakespearian Cassady

Where Wayward Jekylls Hyde — The Mighty Bama-Rama Rap

The Ballad of The Profiteers

Sittin’ On My Roof In New Orleans

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by Brian Hassett       karmacoupon@gmail.com       BrianHassett.com

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9 responses so far ↓

  • 1 Mary Jo Hicks-Sullivan // Feb 5, 2013 at 9:11 PM

    Brian – are you kidding me? I’m speechless. This poem is so beautiful it brought me to tears.

  • 2 Susan Howard // Feb 6, 2013 at 8:22 AM

    Really beautiful, Brian.

  • 3 Marilyn Milewski // Feb 6, 2013 at 6:35 PM

    Wow, what a beautiful poem! I’m sure your Dad would be proud!
    My Dad was a poet and passed away last June at age 94. I really wish I had written something like that for him before he died. I’m so glad you got to share that with yours.

  • 4 Liz Hunter-Querin // Feb 7, 2013 at 10:29 AM

    Beautiful!!!!!!!!!

  • 5 Rod Mizak // Feb 8, 2013 at 12:41 AM

    My dad wrote to me on his death bed, still brings a worm feeling to my heart and a large tear. I never had the chance to reciprocate, that’s why the tear.

  • 6 Jeff Cantin // Feb 8, 2013 at 8:43 AM

    Awesome.

  • 7 Jeff McLaughlin // Feb 8, 2013 at 9:18 AM

    Lovely.

  • 8 Brad Verebay // Feb 10, 2013 at 10:56 PM

    My favorite thing I’ve read of yours. Miss you buddy.

  • 9 Richard Marsh // Feb 21, 2013 at 1:29 AM

    I love this poem to your father, Brian!

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